So I Am a City
Anthony Aguero
And my lakes have been replaced with
reservoirs that are purely decorative. The
trees are being gutted and fed to a man
who has been starving for the last century.
His toenails have been laced with crimson-
ink and, unbeknownst to him, is toxic.
The homes have been ravaged so deep
within me I’m unsure whether anything is
salvageable. Profligate is the soil of my
overused body that was exhausted at
the destruction a pair of human hands
are capable of. So, I am a city disregarded
of its gems: drought, drink, thirst, thirst,
as in the effect of a significant loss of
blood. A man has brutalized any promise
of correcting this endless lack of slake
my body must endure. Sisyphus as the
city which has undone and repaired and
repeat and repeat. I hold my body up
to the brilliant light, all my buildings
shimmering all at once. All that hope
becoming and becoming itself once again.
Anthony Aguero is a queer writer in Los Angeles, CA. His work has appeared, or will appear, in the Bangalore Review, 2River View, The Acentos Review, The Temz Review, Rhino Poetry, Cathexis Northwest Press, 14 Poems, Redivider Journal, Maudlin House, and others.